A Basic Human Need
by LarielRomeniel
Summary: Leonard Snart's got about 40 years of "messed up" to work through, and Sara's newly resurrected but disapproving sister isn't helping matters. Absolutely CaptainCanary. Canon divergent after LoT 1x11 and Arrow 4x17. The fourth part of the "Lost and Found" series.
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Part of the "Lost and Found" AU which begins with "Little Boy Lost" and continues with "Penance" and "Little Girl Found." "LBL" and "LGF" are both referenced throughout this story, so if you haven't read those, please do or you've walked into the movie halfway. **smile**

The original intent for this title was smut, plain and simple. But I kept going back to the Len's history as an abused child, and just how subdued he became around his abuser in Flash 2x03 "Family of Rogues." Being married to a survivor of child abuse, I know the hurt lasts long after the abuser is gone.

So this became a lot more introspective and emotional than I'd expected.

Sensitive readers should be aware that there are some rather intense descriptions of bullying and shaming in the next chapter.

* * *

Leonard Snart was generally a patient man. It was the reason for his success as a criminal. It took patience to research a job, to case a site, to figure out the best way to bypass a security system and to outsmart the cops and not get caught.

It also took patience to learn all the ins and outs of his Cold Gun, so that he could take it apart and put it back together with improvements Cisco Ramon had never imagined.

Dealing with people took another type of patience. He wasn't quite as good at this type, but he figured he'd come a long way from his days of dealing with dissenting criminal cohorts via a bullet to the brain. Verbal shots had turned out to be a lot more fun than gunshots anyway, and Ray unwittingly gave him plenty of opportunities for practice.

Right now, though, he wasn't feeling particularly patient. And that lack of patience was making him irritated with himself.

Of _course_ Sara would want to spend time with her sister. The woman was just back from the dead, after all, and she'd had a lot of adjusting to do in those first waking hours since her resurrection. The idea of being brought back to life was just the first of many shocks for Laurel, followed by bewilderment over having been through the Lazarus Pit without picking up a bad case of bloodlust. Then there was meeting the Waverider team on the bridge (and he still couldn't decide which seemed to startle her more: Mick's brooding presence or Gideon's disembodied head). Add to that some surprise over Malcolm Merlyn's part in her restoration, and just a little glee over his eventual fate. (Who'd have thought Rip Hunter had the stones to dump the rotten smug prick on another planet?)

And then top it all off with the pain of learning she couldn't go home again.

Laurel Lance _needed_ her sister right now, and Len shouldn't grudge her that. Problem was, he _was_ grudging her that, and he felt like a shit for it.

Perhaps it was a good sign that he felt bad about being selfish.

It wasn't as he and Sara hadn't hashed it out last night. Not that they wanted to hide their just-blossoming relationship. But Sara wanted to give her sister a little time to adjust to all the changes in her life, to actually _being_ alive. And he had to agree with that. He couldn't see Sara telling Laurel, "Yes, we brought you back from the dead and you're stuck here on the Waverider and by the way, meet my criminal boyfriend." ( _Boyfriend_. As many times as he'd tried that one on over the past few hours, it still felt too juvenile.)

He got it. Really, he did. At least, he did with the intellectual side of himself that usually drove the bus. But that side had taken something of a beating over the past few days, and last night's kisses had unleashed the side he usually kept under tight control.

 _"To love and to be loved is a basic human need."_ Stein's sage advice. Who'd have thought a physicist would understand matters of the heart so well?

 _"I'm going to be very human. And very needy."_ His own warning to Sara, just last night.

"The hell with it," he muttered to himself. "Gideon? Where can I find Sara?"

The AI responded promptly, "Sara and Laurel Lance are both in the fabrication room."

Probably working up a wardrobe for Laurel. After all, she'd arrived in nothing but the clothes she'd been buried in. "Thanks, Gideon."

"Shall I let her know you're looking for her?"

He waved it off. "No need." He'd just drop by, check in, see how they were doing. No harm in that.

* * *

"Ray actually said his name was _John Wayne_?" Laurel asked with an incredulous giggle.

They were waiting for the fabricator to finish up a few last items. After expressing amazement at watching the machine at work, Laurel had gone to town just a bit, ever the clotheshorse.

Sara nodded. "And he said he wanted to 'rope some doggies,' too. It was like being in one of those western movie marathons Dad used to like. Until the Hunters showed up and turned it into _Cowboys & Aliens_."

Laurel leaned in toward Sara. "And you drank that big scary looking guy under the table."

"His name is Mick," Sara supplied helpfully. "And he may look scary… okay, he can _be_ scary, sometimes, but… there's more to him than meets the eye." She pointedly did not mention Mick's alter ego, Chronos. Laurel had enough to acclimate to as it was. There was plenty of time to fill her in on that sort of detail later.

"So what about his partner?" Laurel asked, cocking her head with a speculative look.

Sara knew that look and that tone all too well. _Cue the protective big sister._ She kept her answer nonchalant. "You mean Leonard?"

Laurel raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, _Leonard_. Who could barely keep his eyes off you back on the bridge. I know that look, Sara." She put a hand on Sara's arm. "I also know you and your history with bad boys…"

"Len has changed, Laurel," Sara said defensively. This was not the way she wanted to tell Laurel about herself and Len, but after all this time on the Waverider she should have known that nothing ever, _ever_ went as planned. "This trip is changing all of us."

Laurel wasn't buying it. "Sara, CCPD shared Leonard Snart's files with the Star City DA's office when he was still at large, right before all of you left. He was in Iron Heights for murdering his own father…"

"Who was an abuser," Sara pointed out quickly.

Laurel wasn't deterred. "He's a killer."

"And so am I!" Sara snapped, pulling away. Laurel gave a nod of concession to that, and Sara went on, "But Len believes I'm not that person any more. And he's not the person in those files any more. Laurel, even _Dad_ was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Dad gave up on trying to tell you what to do after the _Gambit_ ," Laurel groused. "Sara, I just… I just want what's best for you."

Sara shook her head. "And you've decided he's not what's best for me, without even getting to know him."

"I didn't say that, Sara. But at least your other bad boys made it out of high school!" Laurel answered in exasperation.

"I may have dropped out, but it's not because I'm stupid," came Len's icy drawl from the doorway. He was standing there with clenched fists and cold fury in his eyes. "They tried sending me to high school after Juvie. Actually put me in a couple _honors_ classes. The counselors thought I had _potential_ , and since dear old Dad was behind bars, they thought they might be able to make something of me." His voice became quieter, calmer. He stared down at the deck, a sure sign he was struggling with his feelings. "But this was decades before anyone came up with plans to reintegrate kids like me, to make sure we made it. The method then was, 'throw 'em back in the jungle and see if they survive.' I didn't last long, but it wasn't the schoolwork or a burning desire for a life of crime that drove me out."

His tone turned bitter. "It was the _talk_. The whispering behind my back. The stares at the skinny, ragged kid who'd done time. I didn't quite fit anywhere in the high school scene after Juvie, no matter what the bleeding heart counselors thought of my potential. Even the teachers didn't trust me. They sounded an awful lot like you just did."

Now he fixed Laurel with his trademark "Captain Cold" blue gaze. "How long do you think _you'd_ have lasted with that, prom queen? So I went back to what I knew. Lived down to their low expectations. I see some things don't change."

Laurel flinched a little at his intense stare. "I'm… I'm sorry, Leonard. _Len_. I didn't know. Sara's right. I should get to know _you_ and not your record."

"What you should do is trust your sister," he said. He turned on his heel and stalked off.

Sara closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath and let it out. When she opened them, Laurel was watching her with an apologetic expression. "Sara, I'm sorry. Really. I know I should give you more credit, and give him a chance."

Sara took her sister's hand and squeezed it. "It's been a rough few days for all of us, Laurel. I know you're just looking out for me, and I think Len does too, deep down." She looked around at the piles of clothing. "You okay to get all this stuff back to my room on your own?"

Laurel nodded. "Go take care of that bad boy of yours." She hugged her sister. "I'll take your word that there's a good man hiding underneath."

* * *

END NOTE: Fair warning. A lot of angst ahead, and a story to horrify any parent of a high schooler.


	2. Chapter 2

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter deals with the long-lasting impacts of harassment and bullying, including physical abuse. Some readers may find this disturbing, or even heartbreaking. Unfortunately, not every abuse survivor has a lover willing to help them find healing.

* * *

She found him in his room, in the darkness. In the light from the corridor, she could see that he'd taken his boots and jacket off, and left them scattered across the floor. She knew Len was normally obsessively neat. Even a minor mess was a sure sign of inner turmoil.

He was sitting on his bed, his back against the wall, his legs drawn up so he could rest his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "Gideon," she said softly, "lights to 20 percent."

The door slid closed behind her and the lights came up dimly as he made room for her to sit next to him. She set down the small bag Gideon had prepared for her and then curled up to him protectively. She draped her right arm around his shoulders and felt the tension in them. "Laurel says she's sorry," she told him, her voice still soft.

He nodded in silent acceptance and leaned into her. Knowing he'd talk when he was ready, she reached for his left hand with her own and wasn't surprised when he gripped it tightly, the way he had done back in that hospital in Keystone City. He was trembling just as he had been then, relying on her as a lifeline to keep his control.

Eventually he said in a shaky voice, "I'm not mad at her. Not really. It's just..." He paused and sighed heavily. "Old wounds."

"And those are the hardest to heal," Sara said knowingly. "I want to help, Len. Just tell me how."

"You already knew that I had decades of 'messed up' to work through," he said. "I've been trying to do it on my own for all this time. God knows that hasn't worked." He finally looked at her with the most vulnerable expression she'd ever seen on him. "Not even Mick knows all of it."

She drew in a breath, realizing just how much he was trusting her. The hand on his shoulder moved to the side of his face. "I'm listening."

He closed his right hand over the one he was already holding and looked down, as if trying to gather his thoughts. He didn't look up as he began to speak. "I've been trying to bury those memories for nearly thirty years. Laurel brought them back as if they'd been through the Lazarus Pit."

Sara winced at that and put her arm around his shoulders again. "Do you want to tell me?"

He nodded. "You deserve to know what you're getting into with me. It's not too late for you to back out."

She kissed his cheek. "You know I never back out of anything. And I am _not_ backing out of us." She could see doubt warring with gratitude in his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded in acceptance. "You already know a little about what it was like for me in Juvie. But sometimes I think Juvie was a day at the beach compared to high school. I liked the classes, and I actually was good at school. Surprise, surprise." He smirked a little as he said that.

"Not surprised at all," she told him with a grin of her own. She knew just how frighteningly intelligent he really was.

"It was just about everything else that was the problem. I was still small then. Hadn't hit my growth spurt yet. So I was still an easy target. My first week back, the football team thought it was hilarious to shove the scrawny delinquent into the lockers or trip him in the halls."

Bitterness crept into his voice. "The cheerleaders joined the fun in the second week. One of them came up to me, told me I had pretty eyes and kissed me. My first kiss ever." He closed his eyes, remembering. "You know, I can still taste the lip gloss she was wearing. Strawberry. So sweet."

"I thought you hated strawberry."

He nodded. "She followed the kiss up with a slap. My eyes were still closed, so I didn't see it coming. She walked off, laughing with her girlfriends about it, while I stood there with my ears ringing and a red handprint on my face. Then her linebacker boyfriend showed up." He paused and gave her a haunted look. "Right now I'd rather not talk about what he did."

Sara had trouble finding her voice. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I'm here for you, either way."

He drew her hand up to his lips for a light kiss, then held it against his cheek for a long minute before lowering it and continuing. "They were clever about it, making sure nothing happened where an adult could see it. And the jocks weren't the only ones. The ROTC guys watched me as if I was something dangerous that was about to explode. And some of the teachers…" He leaned his head back against the wall and let out an ironic laugh. "I think my science teacher was afraid I'd go postal on his class. He wouldn't let me touch the knives for dissecting stuff…"

"You didn't miss much," Sara interjected with a small smile.

He smirked a little himself. "I suppose so. I wasn't allowed near the Bunsen burners, either. Apparently the teacher didn't get the memo that fire was Mick's thing, not mine."

The slight smile dropped away as he stared at the ceiling. "So school was bad, but _after_ school was worse. Every time I walked home, the taunting would start. At first, it was mostly the same stuff I'd heard from Lewis for years. ' _He can't be that smart. Smart crooks don't get caught.'_ I could ignore that. Then the catcalls started getting personal, asking me when I was moving in with my old man at Iron Heights, and how many boyfriends I'd had to blow in Juvie." He looked back at her. "The answer to that, for the record, is _none_. Mick was quite the protector back then. He made sure I left Juvie as virginal as when I'd gone in." He hesitated, then told her, "You're the only other person besides Mick who knows that. Not even my sister knows it."

A tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek at that confession. He reached up to brush it away, and then continued, "Then one day, a kid crossed the line. Asked me if Lisa was going to grow up to be a thief or a whore, because if it was whore he wanted to be her first trick."

She drew in a pained breath at that. He became tense again, looking back up at the ceiling and clenching his fists. "That was the crack that made the rage boil over. I hadn't learned how to be cold yet. That would come later, when Lewis came home from Iron Heights with lots of new techniques for hurting us. But that's a story for another time."

He stopped again, remembering. "That other guy with the smart mouth was nearly a foot taller than me, but Mick had taught me how to fight, and I knew how to use my small size to the best effect against a bigger guy."

Sara nodded in understanding. The League had taught her the same tricks.

Len went on, "Somehow I held back from killing him. I guess there was still a little of the 'holy innocent' left in me at that point. I left that kid in an alley, bruised and bleeding and afraid to admit to anyone that he'd had his ass kicked by the scrawny delinquent. That was the day I was _done_ with formal education. I never went back."

He sighed. "But the voices keep following me. Thirty years later, I can still hear them." He looked at her again. "Sara, that's just part of the baggage I'm carrying around. Are you sure…"

She lunged forward to kiss him in answer, winding her arms around his neck. He stiffened a little, and she pulled back. "What did I do wrong?" she asked him.

He gently pulled her arms down, but not before she could feel a slight shudder run through him. "Sorry, Sara. Sometimes I tense up when someone's hands or arms are around my neck." There was that vulnerable look on his face again. "You know I trust you."

She laid one hand against his heart to feel its rapid beating. She mentally cursed Lewis Snart and everyone else who had ever hurt this man. "It means everything in the world to me that you do trust me, Len," she said, leaning in for a soft kiss. She ghosted both hands down to the hem of his sweater. She pulled back to look at him. "I want to take care of you. But if anything I do makes you uncomfortable, you tell me to stop."

He nodded his consent and raised his arms so she could pull the sweater off and toss it away. He stared at her intently as she looked at him. He was all lean muscle and pale skin marred by a scattering of scars. She met his eyes again. They _were_ pretty. No, more than that. Beautiful. _He_ was beautiful.

And she'd be damned if she let anyone give him new reasons for wearing that haunted look again, ever.


	3. Chapter 3

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you've already read this over on AO3, you'll note that this chapter has been toned down a bit to meet content standards here. I hope the emotion still shines through.

* * *

Len couldn't remember ever feeling as exposed as he did at that moment. Not so much because he was physically half naked, but because he was emotionally naked with Sara. For her, he'd just torn down the wall of ice he'd built over so many years to keep most people out.

He had no experience with empathy. He'd kept expecting Sara to bolt, all through his story, despite her reassurance that she wasn't going anywhere. His fellow hard cases would have smelled blood, or at the least weakness. Best-case scenario, they'd have just walked away. Worst case could have meant his life.

Sara had amazed him. No walking away, no look of scorn for his weakness. Instead, she gazed at him with soft eyes that sometimes filled with tears. No one had ever wept for him before. Not even Lisa. Seeing that had given him a feeling he'd never experienced in his life, and he wasn't sure what to call it. He just knew that it made him feel full to bursting.

Now Sara was watching him again with those soft eyes that showed some pain as she noted his scars. But no disgust or ridicule, unlike most of the other women, and men, who'd come into his bed over the years. And no pity, either, which was good. He didn't want pity.

Sara's gaze was simply one of acceptance.

She leaned forward to kiss him again, her mouth moving gently against his. The taste was sweeter than strawberries. "Tell me what you're thinking," she whispered when they parted.

He reached up to touch her face. "That I must be dreaming, to have you here, like this. I think you'd better pinch me."

Her mouth twitched a little. "I was thinking of much nicer ways to touch you." She smoothed her warm hands over his bare shoulders in demonstration.

"Hmm." He moved for another kiss. "Sara, if this goes where I think we both want it to…"

"All safe," she reassured him. "Gideon has been very helpful. She says we're both clean, and she gave me a 22nd –century contraceptive, so no worries about adding extra little passengers. And that's not all she did for us." She reached for the little bag she'd brought in and told him, "Lie down. On your stomach."

He quirked an eyebrow at her and complied. "What are you up to, Sara?"

"Taking care of you," she replied. "Close your eyes."

"All right, anything you say." He closed his eyes and felt her slide off the bed. He could hear some quiet movements. Then she climbed back on the bed beside him. She whispered into his ear, "We don't have to do anything you don't want. If you get uncomfortable or nervous, you tell me to stop."

The feel of her warm breath in his ear was making him tingle. "I trust you, Sara."

She kissed his ear and shifted on the bed. After a moment, he smelled something herbal, and felt a warm liquid on his back. He identified it as massage oil when Sara laid her hands on him again. "A little gift from Gideon. I thought you'd need something to relax a bit."

"Not too much, though," he replied.

"Not too much," she agreed. She was rubbing patterns on his shoulders, alternating between firm and soft pressure. He let out a low groan of delight as she moved down his back, tracing his spine slowly. When she reached the waistband of his jeans, she paused. "Okay so far?"

"More than okay," he purred. "Don't stop."

She chuckled. "All right, then. Pants off."

"A little bossy, aren't we?" he asked. He opened his eyes as he started to roll over, and caught his breath. Sara had already stripped down to just a lacy black bra and matching panties, her golden hair cascading around her shoulders. He just stared at her for a while, marveling that he was being given such a gift. Finally he whispered hoarsely, "You are so beautiful, Sara."

She smiled at him softly. "So are you." She leaned down to kiss him again, then poked his arm. "Pants."

He smirked and slid off the bed to shuck off his jeans and socks, leaving on only his shorts, which did little to hide his growing arousal. He looked back at Sara. She was studying him, her eyes running up his body before locking with his eyes. "Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're not beautiful," she told him.

He knelt on the bed and kissed her, putting his arms around her as she laid her hands on his chest. She gave him a little push to lie down again, this time flat on his back.

"I'm not done taking care of you," she told him. "Close your eyes."

He shook his head. "I want to watch you."

A smile curved her lips. "Okay." She reached for the bottle of massage oil and began to give his front side the same loving attention she'd lavished on his back. Despite his best efforts to watch her, his eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as she straddled him and skimmed her hands over his nipples. He let out a moan, jerking his hips up while he smoothed his own hands over the soft skin of her thighs.

She leaned down and kissed him again with an open mouth, her tongue sliding against his briefly before she worked her way across his jaw to his ear. "Patience," she whispered, giving his ear a little nibble.

He made a sound between a chuckle and a groan as she straightened up and began running her hands over him again, moving lower down his abdomen. When she reached the tender skin just under his navel, he drew in a shuddering, moaning breath.

She stopped her movements and waited for him to look at her again. "Are you still all right? Do you want me to stop?"

He couldn't find words for what he wanted. Instead, he sat back up and crushed her to him for a deep kiss, tongues clashing, breath mingling hotly. When they finally had to part for air, he pressed his forehead against hers and said in a rough voice, "I'm more than fine, Sara. You just pushed a button I didn't know I had."

She gave him a wicked smile and reached down. He caught her hand just before it hit that sensitive spot again, and brought it up to his lips. "Slow down, pretty bird." He turned her hand so he could press a kiss to her palm. "No one…" He paused and took in a breath. "Sara, I've had sex before, but no one has ever _made love_ to me. I want to enjoy this. And I want to make love to you."

Now it was her turn to take a quivering breath. Amazing how the look in her eyes could change so quickly from playful to that soft, soulful gaze. He released her hand and kissed her again, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips and teasing them open. He reached around her back to unhook her bra, and pulled away so she could slide it off.

They shifted so she could lay on her back, her hair spread against the pillow. Gazing at her, he decided he wanted nothing between his skin and hers, and he moved to pull off his shorts. She did the same with her panties, leaving her beautifully, enticingly naked beside him.

The more primal part of himself wanted nothing more right now than sink into her, hard and hot and fast, just as he'd done in so many meaningless encounters. He shoved that part down as he leaned on one elbow beside her, tracing his free hand over her skin. His lips soon followed, first targeting her throat, then moving to the spot where her neck and collarbone met. She purred with approval at the contact, encouraging him to go on.

He was working on instinct rather than experience, and from the sounds she was making, instinct was steering him the right way as their bodies joined. She was whispering his name, and other words he couldn't understand. Some other language. He'd ask after. Right now, he needed to feel her lips on his again, to taste her mouth. He moved up the column of her neck. Before descending on her lips again, he looked into her eyes. He felt his heart turn over at what he saw there. Lust, yes, and desire, but mixed with that soft gaze.

"I love you, Leonard," she said softly.

His heart swelled with that emotion he hadn't been able to name before. He knew what it was now. "I love you, Sara," he whispered, and sealed his mouth to hers.

The next thing he knew, he was collapsed on top of her, feeling sated and happy and… _loved_. Her hands were running up and down his back once again. He gave her a soft kiss and moved off her, pulling her along his side. She pillowed her head on his shoulder, draped one leg over his own, and laid one hand over his heart. He put his own hand over hers and kissed her hair.

"No one's ever said they loved me before," he said softly.

She kissed his shoulder. "Get used to it," she said playfully. "You're going to hear it often from me." She reached up to touch his face. "You _should_ hear it often. Underneath that cold front of yours, there's a good man who deserves to be loved."

"I'm not good, Sara. You know the things I've done."

She moved to kiss him. "It doesn't matter where you came from. It matters where you're going. Remember? You're making new choices, and I still want to be around to see where those choices take you."

He nodded. "And I still want you to be around." He took her hand and laid it back over his heart. Sleep was going to claim him soon, but he had one more thing he wanted to know.

"Sara, you were saying something I didn't understand. It sounded like another language. What was it?"

She smiled a little. "It was Arabic. _Enta habibi._ You are my love. _Enta hayati_. You are my life. _Habib alby_. Love of my heart." She kissed him one more time. "You are all of those things, but most of all, _hayati_."

She rested her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her to hold her more closely, and thought about what she'd said.

 _Hayati_. He was her life.

Just as she had become his.

He drifted to sleep with that thought.

* * *

::peeking through my hands::

Right now, I feel about as exposed as Len did.

Let me know if you think I got it right.


	4. Chapter 4

Knowing smiles from Kendra and Stein were the first thing Len noticed when he and Sara joined the team on the bridge the next morning. Kendra's eyes were actually dancing with glee, and Stein's were warm with understanding. Len made a mental note to find something nice for the professor, to thank him for his good advice on dealing with a post-Pit Canary after Nanda Parbat. He'd even buy it instead of stealing it.

Ray and Jax pointedly did _not_ look at them, both seeming embarrassed by this new relationship status. Although, thinking about it… they did have the rooms on either side of his. Maybe he and Sara had been louder than he'd realized when they'd woken up for a second round that was more raw sex than lovemaking, but still _very_ satisfying.

Whatever the reason, Len filed those flustered looks away as potential fodder for future verbal shots. And maybe a practical joke or two.

He expected the smirk on Mick's face; it was the same look Mick wore whenever he'd bedded someone. But the wink and genuine smile that followed it was a bit of a surprise.

Rip looked… well, resigned. He probably took some comfort in knowing Gideon was making sure there wouldn't be any tiny time travelers added to the team. _At least not until Savage was defeated._

Len blinked at that little voice in his head. Before he could chase the thought down any further, Laurel was standing before him with an apprehensive look on her face.

"Len, I'm sorry about…"

He stopped her by putting his hands on her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her forehead. As much as her words had hurt yesterday, today he knew they were the start of healing. "Laurel, I forgave you two seconds after I walked out of the fabrication room," he said as he released her. "I'm not good at staying mad at pretty ladies, especially when they're related to the woman I love."

He felt Sara wind her hand in his. "Laurel, this is a crew that believes in second chances. So why don't we start over, the three of us?" When Laurel nodded, Sara went on, "Len, this is my sister Laurel. And Laurel, this is Leonard," she looked up at him with a smile, "the man that I love."

He put his other hand out to Laurel. She smiled and clasped it warmly. Her hand was surprisingly strong for all of its delicacy. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you, Leonard," she said.

"Call me Len," he said. "And I should warn you, your sister did pick up a bad boy." He leaned in closer. "But she's helping me get better."

And for the first time in about 40 years of "messed up," he believed it really could happen.

-END-

* * *

This story was incredibly tough for me to write, but in many ways very satisfying. I hope you are enjoying my little AU.-LR


End file.
